Synopsis: After attending three consecutive evenings of county dance events, accepting an invitation for drinks at the home of a retired schoolmaster is the last thing Patricia and Martin Hands want to do. Eventually, the sister and brother decide to be neighborly and submit, taking Patricia’s fiancé Gerald Lansley and friend Barbara Carmichael with them. The house that awaits them, however, is less than inviting: an odd man named Salter is playing a solitary hand of cards while a strange woman in a dress of foreign fashion appears from the service entrance and remains nearly mute. To the new guests’ surprise, the mysterious woman disappears out of the room again, and moments later a flustered police constable arrives, also acting strangely. It appears that their would-be host, Mr. Yeldham, has been stabbed in his study, knocking against the switch for the fireplace as he fell. No murder weapon is found on the scene.

From that moment on, the unlucky quartet is fatally linked to the curious events of Y Bryn house in Trevenant, a quiet village in Wales. Detective-sergeant Scoresby has his work cut out for him, as there is no shortage of promising leads. Martin Hands, who did not want to visit Yeldham and pointedly refused cigarettes and drinks while at the house, appears to be holding a grudge against the victim from an incident that concerned Martin and Patricia’s father during the Great War. Scoresby finds acrimony between Yeldham and his housemaster replacement, Kinderson, at the school the dead man was forced to retire from. And what was the mystery woman’s connection with Yeldham? Does the fact that she fled the scene point towards her guilt as a murderer?

As DS Scoresby continues to investigate, with questionably competent help from Constable Reeves and the poaching-inclined Sergeant Evans, the clues start to accrue. An open book of legal code was found by the dead man’s chair, hardly a tome for light reading; a boy notices part of a license plate number from a car parked along a dark lane on the night of the murder; Gerald Mansley apparently lied about the bus stop he used during a visit to London; and Patricia Hands tells the police that a spring-loaded knife used for killing game – and belonging to her brother Martin – has disappeared. When a second murder occurs, the victim being a suspect-turned-blackmailer who knew too much, Scoresby calls everyone back to Y Bryn to present the facts and argue the case against the killer.

Review: To date, And Death Came Too is the eighth Richard Hull book (of his fifteen mysteries) that I have read. Interestingly, it is the first – and perhaps only – story of his that employs a classic whodunit structure, complete with the discovery of clues, suspects interviewed by a determined chief-inspector, and “the grand confrontation scene”, as the acerbic Mr. Salter puts it, wherein the killer is finally accused of the crime and revealed to the reader. Hull handles all aspects of this traditional format skillfully, and the result is a delight for mystery fans. Those unfamiliar with this author may wonder what exactly he has been delivering in his novels, if not a fair-play whodunit. The answer explains why I am attracted to Richard Hull’s writing in the first place: like Anthony Berkeley, he is an author who greatly enjoys playing with the conventions and architecture of the mystery form, finding new approaches to present a crime story and its cast of characters. Some take the guise of an inverted mystery, meaning that the reader knows the murderer and his goal from the start. Both The Murder of My Aunt and My Own Murderer give us immediate access to the criminally-minded narrators as they tell their stories.

Other Hull titles are sly variations on the whodunit, with smart satirical observations on class and corporate thinking. In the delightful Murder Isn’t Easy, we know that violence will strike the halls of the NeO-aD advertising agency, but it’s not certain until later who victim and killer might ultimately be. Keep It Quiet chronicles the efforts of a blackmailer (whose identity is revealed halfway through the book) who uses his power to affect changes to his liking at the social club he frequents. Such intriguing new approaches don’t always fully cohere – as with the amiable but muddled The Murderers of Monty, where a group of businessmen incorporate to plot the demise of an irritating co-worker – but they are enjoyable tales, and admirable in their invention.

In contrast, And Death Came Too seems to be simultaneously a genuine addition to the fair-play whodunit form and a winking comment on the genre. (The wink may be slight compared to Hull’s more caustic satire, but it is there.) Perhaps because of the author’s intention to deliver a traditional mystery, this book is one of only a few where Hull gives the police characters center stage. Even with his titles featuring Inspector Fenby, often the investigating officer is kept decidedly in the background. Here, DS Scoresby is the principal driver of the action, working with other officers and reporting to Major Flaxman as new evidence arises. Generous characterization is provided for major and supporting characters alike, allowing even secondary figures like the precise, egocentric housemaster Kinderson and the suspicious French servant Marie Lefevre to contribute to the story’s success.

The puzzle at the center – essentially, who killed old Yeldham, and why? – is an attractive one, and there are the necessary number of red herrings to lead the reader up the garden path. While nothing in terms of plot or solution dazzles with ingenuity, it is certainly a solid mystery delivered fairly and intelligently to the reader. I was able to guess the killer’s identity around the book’s halfway point, and took additional enjoyment in watching Hull use his writing skills to avoid revealing this fact. For an author used to presenting the murderer’s identity partway through a story (or right from the start), it is highly enjoyable to discover this genuine fair-play mystery from Richard Hull. Just know that it’s the exception to his literary rule.

I really should read more contemporary cosy mysteries. With so many unread British titles waiting for me from detection literature’s recognized Golden Age, roughly from the 1930s to the 1950s, when I do manage to find time to read for pleasure – which is becoming increasingly scarce – I often look no further than the hardcovers and paperback reprints gathering dust on my bookshelf. But keeping company with the Chief Inspectors and the amateur sleuths of yesteryear neglects the detectives (and their authors) who are diligently uncovering bodies and collecting clues in the 21st century, and doing so to entertain and engage today’s generation of readers.

Such is the case with Stone Cold Dead, the first entry in the Rock Shop Mystery series by American writer Catherine Dilts. I had enjoyed this author’s short stories in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and decided to check her out in long form. Dilts has a gift for crafting endearing and accessible characters through spare but effective prose. The story’s protagonist is Morgan Iverson, a widower who returns to Golden Springs, Colorado when her brother and his girlfriend pack up and cross continents to begin missionary work abroad. In doing so, they leave Morgan with Rock of Ages, a tourist shop that sells geologic treasures and regional curios to summer visitors. It doesn’t help matters that Morgan takes over near the start of the winter season, and it’s even less of a comfort to learn that Kendall, her brother, has no intention of returning soon to the store, turning Morgan’s two-week visit into an indefinite stay.

Fortunately, she has help: Del, a weathered ex-cowboy and employee of the shop, proves to be a useful ally and handyman, while bakery owner Bernie quickly becomes a companion and confidant of Morgan’s, as the two get involved in the charity and competitive running events that are popular among the region’s forested hills and mountainsides. Morgan also inherits two donkeys, Adelaide and Houdini, who have a habit of wandering off the property when the gate isn’t closed. During a search for the AWOL animals, Morgan makes a tragic discovery: the body of a teen girl lies on a hiking trail, apparently dead. When Morgan is able to receive a cellphone signal and call for medical help, she returns to the scene to find that the girl is gone.

There are many enjoyable elements at play in Stone Cold Dead, the author’s evocation of the wintry climate and the regional setting among them. But it is the characters, and their flaws and motivations, which make this story memorable for me. Through the book, the strong and decisive Morgan also has touching moments of guilt that she links to her decisions: could the girl have been saved if she had administered CPR when Morgan first discovered her? Later, she worries that she won’t be able to act fast enough to save another person close to her. Such emotional connection and doubt is quite powerful when built into a traditional cosy, and this recognition of Morgan’s vulnerability makes the reader empathize with her.

Dilts delivers another intriguing character with Piers Townsend, a new-age business owner and real-estate developer (are the two a contradiction in philosophies?) who becomes a potential love interest for Morgan while staying on the list as a prime suspect for the murder. In addition, Piers’ true motivation might be less than romantic, as he has previously tried to get Kendall to sell Rock of Ages… and the 75 acres of land attached to it. The relationship between heroine and potential villain keeps the reader engaged and the story moving along.

There is also an agreeable sense of humor throughout the book, from the conversation and camaraderie Morgan and baker Bernie share to the surprising role that donkeys Adelaide and Houdini play in the story’s crisis moment (and their resultant fame afterwards). It’s a winning mix of mystery, character, and snowbound setting, and by the story’s conclusion, the reader hopes that Morgan Iverson will remain as the adoptive shop owner in Golden Springs, and that doing so will bring the promise of future adventures.